Review: DEAD INSIDE at Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company

In 2005, the internet graced us with one of humanity’s greatest and worst inventions: YouTube. Those of us who were in school during the late-Aughts have fond memories of watching videos late into the night, reveling in early viral sensations, satires and sketches, and up-and-coming comedy groups, many of whom still exist today.

One such group was the folk duo, Garfunkel and Oates, comprised of performers Riki Lindhome and Kate Micucci. The pair, who met at Upright Citizens Brigade, formed their “silver medalist”-inspired band in 2007, and soon became popular for their songs, which displayed their sharp humor, cheerful crassness, and quick delivery. Over the years, Lindhome and Micucci have continued to perform together while also pursuing individual projects, producing witty and insightful observations about their lives and the world.

There’s a bit of a full-circle, Lindhome acknowledges at the top of her one-woman show, Dead Inside, which premiered at Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company this weekend, that one of her first breakout hits with Micucci was the song, “Pregnant Women Are Smug,” and she’s now performing a show about her path to motherhood (though, she notes, having now experienced pregnancy, she fully maintains their earlier assessment).

Dead Inside covers Lindhome’s “fertility journey,” albeit she takes issue with the fact that this is the only medical experience that’s discussed with such vague and flowery language (“you don’t hear people discussing their ‘gout journey,’” she quips). Still, she frames her path to motherhood in the context of the revised hero’s journey she introduces as a more relatable storyline for women, whose paths often are messier and more complicated than the traditional hero’s journey applied in popular culture, and Dead Inside is a beautiful exploration of that voyage.

As both an explanation and a trigger warning: Lindhome’s road to motherhood was incredibly fraught. Dead Inside is a deeply personal show about an incredibly difficult decade in Lindhome’s life, even as she found professional success, and there’s a rawness to the performance as she recounts both her hopefulness and her grief. Lindhome experienced disappointments that will be familiar to many in the audience – fertility treatments, miscarriages, and even an abortion – and she doesn’t shy away from recounting any of it. She’s also incredibly thoughtful about how she talks about these issues and her experiences, noting that she uses language to frame her show reflecting her experiences as a cis heterosexual woman (language that will be utilized in this review), with the medical and social experiences that come with that identity. She’s also cognizant of her position, having the financial means and residency that allowed her to access the care and options that are often out of reach for others. And yet, even within those bounds, she’s still doing something inherently radical: speaking publicly about her reproductive path.

That openness is what makes Dead Inside such a profound theatrical experience. Lindhome shines a light on an intimate situation that’s often kept completely in the dark under the guise of “privacy,” highlighting how these experiences can feel deeply isolating even though they’re incredibly common because we as a society shy away from discussing them. At the same time, she also addresses this difficult topic with her signature directness and blunt humor – her songs are upbeat, her jokes are unapologetic and sharp, and her demeanor makes it feel as though she’s having a conversation with close friends rather than a packed theater – a feeling reciprocated by the audience’s responses, including noticeable gasps and sharp intakes of breaths at particularly emotional turns. Even when there are missteps, like a delayed projection or a dry throat, she takes everything in stride, with a quick quip and a cheery will to power through. It’s clear the audience is seeing her authentic self, and her casual persistence as a performer, unphased by any setback, is also great foreshadowing for her own story: whenever she reaches a point of setback, she repeats the refrain, “Do I take a step back, try to process?” before immediately dismissing the idea and plowing ahead – with her life, with her show, with her plans. There’s a frenetic pace to her storytelling that accelerates at each crossroad when she doubles down on trying harder, pursuing new ideas and routes, and that makes it all the more striking when she reaches a point where she can’t as easily push on and instead needs to finally become more introspective.

And yet, with this superbly clever and thoughtful framing, there’s one additional element that really elevates Lindhome’s performance: she’s genuinely and straightforwardly hilarious. She’s a charming and entrancing storyteller, but her humor isn’t used to deflect or lighten the tone. Instead, she’s honed it to emphasize that she’s providing an unflinching, honest portrait of her experiences, and that there’s still joy and comedy to be found even in those darker patches. Lindhome is steadfast in her sincerity, even when reflecting on moments she knows she was avoiding more difficult aspects of her life (her breakup song is a great example), and that’s what makes Dead Inside really shine as a production and – forgive the usage of the word – journey.

Supporting Lindhome’s insightful script and comical songs is an equally strong Production Team. The Woolly Mammoth staging is the production’s largest to date, and the technical elements provide an adept home for Lindhome’s energetic storytelling. Meghan Raham’s scenic design provides a literal, clever frame for Lindhome, filling the stage without ever dwarfing the performer, and includes storage for Lindhome’s instruments and chairs when they’re not in use. Luis Garcia’s Lighting and Video designs have excellent comedic timing, often providing a punchline to Lindhome’s jokes or just the right setting for her songs to fully hit home, though there was an occasional moment where the cue didn’t quite work; however, Lindhome’s natural charisma paired with quick recoveries made mishaps feel like an almost intentional part of the show rather than an error, and the punchlines were strong enough to withstand the delays. Garcia’s lighting designs were a particularly fun touch, and definitely helped immerse the audience into the production, along with Sarah O’Halloran’s solid sound designs. At the helm of it all, along with Lindhome herself, is Director Brian McElhaney, who runs a tightly orchestrated production with a nearly invisible precision and a keen eye for allowing Lindhome to really shine.

Dead Inside is a beautifully crafted and deeply thoughtful production, but it’s also immensely funny – a balance Riki Lindhome seems to have mastered, and one that really lends itself to this difficult topic. Lindhome reflects at the ends that she may have lost some of her “delusional optimism” along the way, but that she feels she’s gained some wisdom as well. That wisdom is clearly present in this production, but being wise doesn’t mean you can’t have a bit of fun as well. Lindhome’s show is incredibly emotional, but it leans into the full range of emotions that makes the viewer more than glad to be along for the journey.

Riki Lindhome’s Dead Inside runs at Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company through August 3rd. Performance run time is approximately 90 minutes with no intermission. Please note that this show features flashing lights, and includes explicit language and discussion of infertility, miscarriage, abortion, sexual acts, and musical theater.  Information on tickets, accessibility, and show talkbacks can be found on the Woolly Mammoth website.